


Crushing On The Absolutely Fucking Perfect Senior—A.K.A. Dean’s Best Friend

by aubreytruthfully



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, high school!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-01
Updated: 2012-09-01
Packaged: 2017-11-13 08:41:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/501586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aubreytruthfully/pseuds/aubreytruthfully





	Crushing On The Absolutely Fucking Perfect Senior—A.K.A. Dean’s Best Friend

“You talk about him like he’s your boyfriend,” Sam teased, making sure that he was out of Dean’s reach.

“Fuck you,” Dean glared, “you’re just jealous because no one wants to be friends with a freak like you.”

Sam winced at Dean’s choice of words. Dean regretted what he said immediately. They both got quiet.

“I didn’t mean it like that Sammy,” Dean mumbled, “Cas is a freak too.” 

“Did you honestly think that was the comforting answer?” Sam almost laughed at his brother’s ridiculous attempt.

“Oh shut the fuck up and eat your goddamn soup,” Dean rolled his eyes.

The evening went on. Sam wasn’t surprised that Dad never came home. Dean had been counting on his dad not coming home; Dad wasn’t fond of them inviting friends over. It was always important that they never get attached to anyone or anything, but this was the longest they’d ever spent in one town and Dean wasn’t going to waste it being antisocial.

There were headlights in the driveway and the boys heard a car door shut. Dean edged his way over to the door.

“I’ll just go chill in my room,” Sam put his bowl in the sink and started walking away. 

“We’ll be out here, you know, if you need anything,” Dean always making sure his brother was informed and protected.

Sam flopped down on his bed and pulled out a notebook from the backpack leaning against the bedframe. He started to work on his homework, but was distracted. Sam could hear his brother talking and someone responding. He couldn’t help but smile when he heard two sets of laughter bouncing off one another. Dean never got to be happy, so this was a nice change.

Dean had said his friend’s name was Castiel—who names their kid that?—but that everyone called him Cas. Sam could think of a few things he knew about Cas. Dean had told him a lot of stuff about his friend. Sam knew that Cas’ mom was out of the picture and that his dad struggled to keep the family going. Sam knew that Cas had many siblings, although he couldn’t remember how many. Sam knew that Cas could speak several languages, but struggled with schoolwork. Sam knew that Cas didn’t play sports—but Dean didn’t know if it was because he wasn’t any good or couldn’t afford the uniforms.

But there was something that Sam wished he knew a little less. Sam knew exactly what Cas looked like. Sam had memorized what Cas looked like. It made Sam a little ashamed. Honestly, Sam had never really felt that compelled to memorize every little thing about anyone—let alone a boy.

“Hey Sammy!” Dean shouted.

“It’s Sam!” he shouted back desperately wanted Dean to NOT embarrass him in front of Cas.

“Whatever!” Dean yelled again, “Go find my video games!”

Sam grumbled, getting off his bed and walking to Dean’s room. He slowly waded through the infinite dirty clothes, moldy food, and random items. Finally, he found the box and walked into the living room with it. Cas and Dean stared at him expectantly. Sam could barely breathe. Cas’ eyes were so blue and perfect.

“You just gonna stand there?” Dean made a face at Sam.

“Sorry,” Sam muttered and handed the box over, noticing that Cas’ fingers touched his.

“Thanks,” Cas smiled, revealing perfect teeth.

Hurrying, Sam went back to his room. There was blood rushing to his face. The amount of embarrassment he felt was idiotic. He was acting like a little girl, crushing on the senior. Crushing on his brother’s best friend. Crushing on the absolutely fucking perfect senior who happened to be his brother’s best friend. Sam ran his hands through his hair. What was his problem? He needed to stop thinking so much. Deep breaths. Sam settled back down on his bed and finished his homework. Crushes were nothing that he couldn’t live with.

The night went on and eventually Sam could hear the console being shut off. He knew the sounds of his brother walking around, but Cas walking sounded different. Lighter.  
“You can just crash on the couch if you want to,” Dean offered to Cas.  
“You sure?” Cas sounded grateful.

“Yeah man,” Dean started walking back to his bedroom. He stopped and peaked into Sam’s room, “’Night Sammy.”

“Goodnight Dean,” Sam smiled a little; it was comforting for Dean to say goodnight, it had always been comforting.

Sam waited until he could no longer hear Dean rolling around on his bed in the room next to Sam’s. Slowly, he walked out of his room. He told himself that he was just going to get a drink, but realistically, he was trying to sneak a peek at a sleeping Castiel. The living room was dark, but the stove light from the kitchen made it possible to see a little. Sam could hear Cas breathing and wanted to go look at him, but decided against it. Instead, he opened the fridge and took a drink out of the milk jug.

“Sam?” Cas questioned.

“Yeah,” Sam jumped a little.

Cas sat up on the couch and peered over the back to look at Sam. His eyes pinned Sam to where he was. Even in the dark, Sam knew how beautiful they were. Knew that somehow they were looking right through him.   
“Would it keep you and Dean up if I watched some TV?” Cas’ voice was softer than normal, coated in a layer of sleepiness.

“No,” Sam shrugged, “that’s fine.” Sam started to walk back to his room, ashamed that he could barely even talk to the other boy.

“You want to, uh, watch it with me?” Cas asked.

Sam felt his lips pull into a smile before he turned around and sat down on the couch.

“Sure,” Sam nodded.

They sat there on the couch, flipping through channels. Cas offered Sam some of the blanket he was using and Sam took it. Their body heat was all contained under one quilt and they were close enough that if Sam wanted to just move his hand over a little, he could touch Cas’ thigh. He couldn’t tell if his brain was playing tricks on him, but he could swear that Cas was getting closer to him. He could swear that their shoulders weren’t touching when they first sat together. He could swear that his heart wasn’t beating this fast earlier.

Sam just kept breathing, trying to keep himself calm. It was harder than it seemed, considering that Cas was sitting next to him in just his boxers with his perfect eyes and perfect body and perfect everything.   
“Sam?” Cas broke the horrible train of thoughts racing through Sam’s mind.

“Hmm?” Sam took a brief look at Cas’ mouth before looking up at his eyes.

“Dean talks a lot of about you,” Cas turned his face to look more directly at Sam.

“He talks a lot about you too,” Sam swallowed.

“He seems to think that,” Cas paused, “never mind.”

“You can’t do that,” Sam groaned, “That’s hardly fair.”

“Dean seems to think that you,” Cas cleared his throat, “like me or something.”

“Oh,” Sam managed to squeak out.

He wanted to make his abnormally tall, lanky frame shrink down into nothing. Why would Dean say that? Sam hadn’t even told Dean that. Then again, Dean could always read him like a book. Why did Dean have to ruin it? Cas would never talk to him ever again now.

Sam noticed that Cas was still looking at him. Cas was still looking at him with an almost expectant look. Or was that just Sam being hopeful?

“Dean also seems to think that I like you,” Cas’ chest moved faster with his breathing, “but I keep telling him that you would never…” His voice trailed off.

“I would never what?” Sam leaned forward, wanting to hear what Cas had to say.

Cas looked up, his eyes flitting between Sam’s right eye, left eye, and mouth. Right eye, left eye, and mouth. Right eye, left eye, and then their mouths were touching. Sam froze. He had never done anything like this with a boy. He had only done this with a girl once. After all, he was just fourteen. He was only a freshman and now there was this senior God kissing him.

Sam couldn’t help but lean into the kiss when Cas gripped his cheeks. It felt like heaven. It felt like everything he hoped it would. This kiss surpassed his last one by a billion.

A whimper escaped Sam’s throat when Cas pulled away, but Cas’ hands stayed on Sam’s face. Smiling, Cas leaned in to give him one little nip of a kiss. Only a sample of what Sam had first.

“I kept telling him that you would never go for someone like me,” Cas murmured. 

Sam was trying to make what Cas said make sense in his head, but he couldn’t. How could Castiel think that? If anything, Sam should be wondering how Cas could possibly feel this way about him. Sam was wondering that. Sam was just a lanky, too tall, nerdy, awkward, freshman boy who happened to have a nearly flawless older brother.

Cas’ hands were still holding Sam’s face, their foreheads were touching, and both of them could feel the other one’s breathing.

“But Dean always reminds me that you’re just a nerdy freshman,” Cas chuckles, “and that I need higher standards.” Cas pulled away and looked Sam—looked through Sam, “However, I happen to find you very cute and I appreciate your academic skills.” 

Sam was going to say something. Right? He had planned on telling Cas how long he had been waiting for this. Right? Sam was totally going to go into detail about how perfect Cas was and how unworthy he was. Somehow, that didn’t happen. Somehow, Sam ended up pressing his lips roughly against Cas’. Somehow, they were tangled together on the couch making out as though their lives absolutely depended on it.

Cas’ tongue moved slowly, quickly, smoothly, roughly, and with all kinds of skill. Sam felt like he was more along for the ride than anything else. However, Sam felt special that he was on top of Cas. Sam’s body was longer, not quite stronger, but covered Cas completely. They were both moaning—maybe a little too eagerly—and kissing perfectly. They slowly explored each other’s mouths and shapes, just feeling and learning. It all started falling into place; it was like they were meant to be pressed together this close.

Each of them murmured things between kisses. Each of them gasping when the other kissed somewhere other than their mouths. Each of them trying to find some way to just become one and never separate.  
“What the fuck?!” a loud voice woke Sam from his sleep.

Sam rubbed at his eyes and turned his head—realizing he had a crick in his neck—seeing Dean standing above him. At first, Sam didn’t understand what the problem was, until he saw a calmly awake Castiel beneath him. Not just beneath him, but beneath him shirtless and holding onto him.

“You said I should make my move,” Cas answered, never seeming frightened at all. 

“I didn’t mean in my fucking house on my fucking couch!” Dean flung his arms, “I meant…I don’t know…just not this!”

“Dean—I—I’m so sorry,” Sam stuttered and scrambled to get off the couch.

“Jesus Sam,” Dean sighed, “Just go get dressed and take care of,” Dean’s eyes trailed downwards.

“Right,” Sam’s face flushed when he saw something not so hidden poking against his boxers.

“I could help you with that,” Cas offered with a smirk, but somehow his voice still sounded factual, as if he wasn’t blatantly flirting.

“No you won’t,” Dean warned and smacked Cas on the back of the head.

Humiliation was pulsing through Sam as he tried to get dressed, willing the thing in his boxers to go the hell away. He said the pledge of allegiance over and over until it had finally retreated. Sam hadn’t even realized they had drifted off to sleep last night. Sam could remember every part of last night, except for that. Dean was going to kill him. He just knew it. Sam had made out with Dean’s best friend and now he was going to die. He hoped that Dean would at least spare Cas.

Breakfast was awkward. Very awkward. Sam stayed quiet and munched on his cereal. Dean’s eyes moved back and forth between Cas and Sam. However, Cas simply leaned back in his chair and ate his cereal contently. Maybe that’s why Dean liked Cas so much. Maybe they were such good friends because Cas could just stay calm all the time.

Reluctantly, Sam walked Cas out to his car. He knew that Dean was watching from the window. Like a father after his daughter’s first date. Dean was not the dad. Sam was not a girl, or his daughter. Last night was hardly a first date. Last night was more like a serendipitous moment.

“I was thinking that you should help me with my homework,” Cas stuck his hands in the pocket of his jeans.

“You’re a senior,” Sam raised an eyebrow, “We don’t have any of the same classes.”

“Dean says you’re pretty smart though, that you help him out some,” Cas looked up at Sam with those eyes. 

“Yeah,” Sam nodded nervously, “Whenever you need help.”

“Cool,” Cas smiled.

Hands gripped at Sam’s flannel shirt, pulling him down and forward. Sam had to brace a hand against Cas’ car to keep from stumbling, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was the fact that Cas was currently kissing him. Sam struggled to open his eyes when Cas pulled away.

“Let’s not make this a one night thing,” Cas whispered, his breath tickling Sam’s ear, “because I’d like to take you out on a real date,” Cas grinned.

“Sure,” Sam had a deer-in-the-headlights look.

“You know,” Cas opened his car door, “now that I know you’re not too bad at kissing.”

Sam watched Cas drive away, but still couldn’t move. There was no way that last night happened. There was no way that this morning happened. There was no way that Castiel had asked him out on a date. And there was no way that Sam had said sure.  
When Sam came back into the house, he heard Dean run back into the living room and leap onto the couch. The TV switched on and Dean put on his innocent face. Sam rolled his eyes and sat down beside his brother. They were silent for a long time.

“Don’t say I never help you out,” Dean kept his eyes on the screen.

“What?” Sam asked.

“Oh like I didn’t know what would happen if I convinced him to spend the night. On our couch. In his boxers,” Dean grinned, but still didn’t look at Sam.

“I could’ve done this on my own,” Sam defended himself, “without your so-called help.”

“Right,” Dean nodded, “What ever you say baby boy.”


End file.
